Spores of Hatred
by 1pandamanypanda
Summary: With Megatron defeated, the Autobots return to track the Decepticons still on Earth. But what they find they scarce can believe; a monster approaches, hunting a femme with a secret that may unravel the very history of Cybertron's Great War.
1. PROLOGUE

Spores of Hatred

rated T for violence, language, possible trauma, references to bot on bot relations, and robot gore.

I own nothing except for my bots, the Erasers, and my room filled with Transformers merchandise because I'm an obsessive freak.

word = normal

"word" = normal vocal

"_word_" = as heard over comm.

_word_ = thought

~_word_~ = bond talk

*_word_* = flash back

units of time: ASTROSECOND= 0.498 seconds; NANOKLIK= 1 second; SUBCYCLE= half a cycle or 0.75 minutes; KLIK= 1.2 minutes; CYCLE=1.5 minutes; QUARDRICYCLE= 4 cycles or 6 minutes; BREEM= 8.3 minutes; GROON= 1 hour; JOUR=1.5 hours; MEGACYCLE= 2.6 hours; ORN= 1 lunar day; NGS=93 hours; PARACYCLE=1 week; DECACYCLE= 10 days; GIGACYCLE= 3 weeks; DECAORN= 1 lunar month; ORBITAL CYCLE= 1 month; QUARTEX= 1 Earth month; TRIMARA= 3 months; METACYCLE=13 months; SOLAR CYCLE= 1 day or 1 planet rotation; STELLAR CYCLE= 1 year or 1 planet orbit; ANOCYCLE= 1 cybertronian year; DECIVORN= 8.3 years; VORN= 83 years

Prologue

Astroid belt, edge of Cybertronian Space, 350 solar cycles prior to present day.

The space bridge rested quietly on its solitary rock, floating aimlessly through the black inky darkness. Asteroids softly careened in subtle arches, curving gently, hovering almost about magically around the space bridge's forked nodes. Somewhere in the distance, a star was blooming into a red giant. It was serene, peaceful. But that's what deep space was. There was something calming, soothing about the black, like it was designed that way. Staring out into it's depths, one could get lost in the beauty of it all. Many beings had found themselves watching the universe beyond their world's boarders, watched nebulas grow and fade through the eons. But few could match the beauty of the Astroid belts, the way those space stones danced within the black, following the same trails as they had for all of time. It was haunting yet beautiful.

But serenity can easily be shattered.

"_Rocky! Get down!_"

The young femme didn't have time to fully process the command, but that didn't matter anymore. After years of responding to hastily shouted orders, Roxilix no longer had to listen to what her superiors were saying. Her frame automatically reacted.

She dropped, crouching as the plasma soared across her path, the heat cresting the ridges of her helm, tingling her sensors. Not waiting to see if it impacted, trusting the shooter to know his target, she hurried out of the remaining line of fire, finding brief cover behind a large boulder. She loaded another round in to her built in crossbow and raised her arm around the rock, firing blind. She heard the resounding explosion of her concussive round along with the growl of an engine located near the epicenter and darted off across the field. Another plasma round seared uncomfortably close to her helm.

"Dang it Cross Shot!" she snapped over her comm. "You're getting way too close for comfort right now!"

There was no retort from the sniper, not that there ever was, but Roxilix kept running across the field, leaping minor hurdles of stone like an olympic athlete. She needed to run, to get out of there as quickly as possible. Cross Shot could only buy her so much time in situations like this, not that she could ever recall a time any situation quite resembled this. At all.

And she wasn't nearly as experienced as the others were, she knew that, they all knew that. If it had been their choice, she never would have been involved in this scenario. But time was short, as were supplies and bots. The team was out two hands and Roxilix, she was the only one that knew, knew what was going on, what was happening.

She was trained to deal with it.

She had been trained to deal with Him.

"_Rocky?_" someone spoke softly over her comm. She smiled at the other femme's voice. "_Rocky, Rocky do you read me?_"

The young femme ducked behind another boulder before responding.

"I read you loud and clear, Giga. What do you need?"

"_I need you to stop prancing about like a petro-rabbit_." Giga's voice was concerned yet scolding. "_Those welds I made aren't durable enough for this. I need you to fall back to Cross Shot's position and lay down suppressive fire, keep Him distracted_." Roxilix found herself shaking her head.

"Can't."

"_What do you mean 'can't'?_"

The young femme grimaced.

"_Don't tell me He's fixated_."

Again Roxlix found herself answering with her helm rather than her comm.

"_Slag it to the Pit and back_," Giga hissed roughly through her vents. She said something to someone else, some report on Roxilix's predicament. "_Stay tight Rocky. I'm heading for your location. ETA: as soon as possible._" Roxilix's comm crackled as Giga disconnected, she could hear her transforming before the comm was dropped. It felt like barely astroseconds had passed before she heard the familiar sound of gravel being chewed through the fast treads of a cybertronian alt mode.

Giga's black and white form skidded into view and Roxilix wasted little time, scurrying out from her little cover to the older femme. She had barely gotten to her peds when she felt the shadow cross over her line of sight. She barely had to turn her head to see the bulking frame towering behind her crouched form, the massive corroded plating blocking the light that erupted from the lit space bridge behind Him. Roxilix froze, optics wide.

_If that don't just beat all…_

"Move!"

Roxilix did her best to hurl her body out of the way of the fist that collided with the stone outcrop, now dust, that had once been her "cover." Giga was faster to react though, and the experienced femme grabbed her frame and pulled her back. When Giga had found the time to transform was lost on the younger as she was shoved back behind her, Giga sliding forward as guard.

"Cover your audios!" She barked and Roxilix reacted faster, covering her audios with her hands as the elder femme's door wings flared. Giga activated her sonics.

The solid wall of sound was deafening as the violent pulses issued from the resonating amplifiers on her shoulders, rippling the intangible space. He staggered back. The vibrations fluctuated, frequencies changed and the decibels rose, and the impenetrable wall of sound became crippling high. Roxilix felt her body shake as the ground beneath her peds trembled, the sounds pouring from Giga's resonators making cracks in the solid rock. He pulled back, cringing, clutching His corroded helm in crude covered servos. Giga pressed forward.

And was met with the boulder He hurled into the wall.

Giga was thrown backwards, her sonics falling offline from the jarring impact with the hard ground. Roxilix was quick to her side, helping her superior stand. Her door wings had been crushed from the impact and Giga grimaced from the feedback relaying through her systems, but she made no noise of complaint. Giga forced the younger away, sending her stumbling back.

"Get back to-"

"Move yo'r afts!"

Giga dove left, catching Roxilix with her arm and forcing her into the ground as a black, flame decaled alt sped passed, kicking up fragments of rock in its wake. Spinning as he transformed, Scorch skidded to a halt facing Him, engines revving. The two femmes looked at their commander.

"Giga, get Rocky outta here righ' now," the mech growled out. His fists clenched, a blue spark tearing free from his black armor. Roxilix's faceplates grew pale. "Leave 'Im to meh." Giga nodded and placed her servo around the younger's arm, pulling her back as the mech made his way to Him.

"_Be careful Scorcher_," Giga whispered over his comm. "_You know what He can do. Don't do anything stupid; we can't loose another one like this_."

"_Ah know_." He looked back to the older femme and did his best to grin that normal, egotistical smirk of his. "_Keep 'er safe fo' meh, alrigh'?_" Giga didn't buy it and shot him one last concerned glance before turning around, leading Roxilix away from the coming fray.

But He wouldn't have that, not for a second.

He screamed, the sound of breaking metal and deep thrumming engines, before taking off, moving at speeds that should have been impossible for one his size, aiming directly for the retreating femmes.

"No ya don Nova!" Scorch roared, transforming and racing to cut Him off. The flame decals of his alt mode shimmered, sparking rich blues as he mulched the rock beneath his treads. The sparks connected and in a crackle of energy, the blue engulfed his form. Flames flickered and licked out, crisp blue heat pouring out in to the black as he raced, turning sharply, spitting rocks as he collide in to His side, burning hot. The impact forced Him back, refocused Him, made Him turn to look at Scorch as the mech transformed once again.

"That's righ', look at meh."

He growled, turning the bulking frame to the mech, crouching low on His haunches. Something in that corrupt frame churled, the sound of small things moving, spreading. The corroded mess grew, reaching armor that had once been clean, turning it rust red and brown. Something fell off His body. Scorch burned hotter.

"Ah don want ta do this to ya Nova," he spoke softly, mournfully. "If Ah could do this any other way, Ah would. But ya hurt us Nova, ya hurt us real bad, 'specially Rocky." he made his way slowly to the other, listening to the growl of his own engine beginning to rise. "Ah don want this Nova, but it's our job ta take ya down."

Nova paid this speech no mind, Scorch knew that, but it made it easier on him, made the idea

easier in his meta. He had to end this as soon as possible.

Scorch dashed forward, his motor whining as he drove head long into the larger mech, forcing Him back. The larger mech cried out. The molten touch raged through His plating, searing metal and making it glow white hot. There was a hiss that rose into the nether, a horrid serrating hiss worse than any frequency Giga could ever produce through her resonators. It was loud, deafening, piercing. It stabbed through Scorch's audios and brought fluids to his optics. It made Giga and Roxilix stumble in their retreat, forcing them to cover their audios and stare back into the fray in horror and awe. From the stoic look out the sniper had claimed as his, Cross Shot's blank gaze wavered and next to him Avvix whined.

It was the hiss of corrosion being burned away.

It was the screech of thousands burning to death.

_Ah'm so sorry_….

Scorch pressed further in to the mech, hands shaking as he reached for Nova's chest plate. If he could burn through the armor on his chest, if he could melt all the way through to the spark chamber, he could finally end this madness.

* " _Fusage is one of the most painful ways to go offline Scorch," Nova mumbled deep in his vocals, his large hand gently caressing the damaged chest plating of the offline mech, the armor melted through and flaking. In the empty spark chamber liquid metal pooled. "But it's also the fastest, the least barbaric I suppose you could call it. Just a moment of flaring pain and then... void, the Well. There are worst ways of being sent offline. But it's not a method I would wish on anyone Scorch." he stood, proud frame catching the evening sun, reflecting light like Primus Himself. "I wouldn't wish it on anyone._" *

Scorch placed his burning hands on the armor plating, feeling the energy that glowed deep inside the mech pulsating out. It was warm even under his super-heated servos. Pressing with all his might, the armor glowed, heating to degrees that normal Cybertronian alloy simply wasn't meant to withstand. The corrosion screamed, sizzling as it burned, releasing fumes that would have stung his optics if not for the fire that consumed his frame. Nova screamed. Scorch felt the armor begin to give way beneath him.

"Not much longer now, ma ol' friend," Scorch found himself shushing, fighting back the fluids that threatened his optics. " It won' be long now…"

He pushed down, hard, and the armor gave way, falling into the recesses of the chest cavity. Now to only find the spark case…

Scorch's optics shuttered.

…_Dear sweet Prahmus_…

The radiation that erupted from Him knock Scorch off balance, pouring out in a solid mass, striking him in the chest and sending him rocketing back. It was agony, pure red agony that washed across his meta as it pounded against him, through him. Nova slowly clambered back to His peds, growling. Thoroughly unhappy, the large mech shook himself, a few scraps of corroded plating flaking off, before He forcibly marched in Scorch's direction. The downed mech tried to bring himself to his peds, but the radiation was still pulsing through him, the pain rendering his legs unresponsive. The only thing he realized he could still do, a part from feeling the crippling pain leeching through his circuits, was burn. And burning was the one thing he had to keep doing.

The bulking colossus reached forward, grasping the mech's helm, lifting him off the ground like some sparkling's play thing. Pain rushed through his relays as his support struts were squeezed, hardware compressing in a manner it had not been designed to move. He offlined his optics and tried his best to ignore the pain lacing across his network. He tried to shut down his sensors but his requests went unhindered, the radiation blocking his override protocols. So instead he focused on maintaining his fire, keeping himself burning. The corrosion couldn't survive the extreme temperatures of his systems, couldn't survive his blue flame. As long as he stayed burning, the corrosion couldn't infect him and spread.

Offlining from the pain was still a better fate than becoming infected.

Not that Scorch had plans to offline anytime soon.

The boom of a plasma round whined through the distance and he could feel the round's energy as it roared passed, colliding with the arm that held him. There was a yowl of pain and Scorch felt his frame being released. He could hear the echo of another round being fired as he fell. It felt like forever till he hit the hard ground, the whine of Cross Shot's rifle filling his audios. Rebooting his optics, Scorch managed to catch a glimpse of the pink plasma streaking across the sky, connecting with Nova's frame. The mech growled, shielding His body with His massive arms before screaming, releasing a pulse of radiation that threatened to knock the damaged commander into stasis. The volley of fire halted as the pulse spread, the wave forcing the sniper to seek added cover.

The mech's vents pumped cold through His frame, dispelling the radiative heat that had just been released. Nova's head turned slowly on it's gears, optics catching the glint of something off in space, something that Scorch could not see. The large mech's engines whined and something was grumbled through His vocals, something that made the flame decaled bot shutter his optics in disbelief, before transforming and racing away, kicking up dust. Doggedly Scorch watched as a proto-shell was engaged and the bot kicked Himself out into the void.

Only after Scorch could barely make out Nova's vapor trail did he finally disengage his fire.

"Frag it all…" he hissed as he forced himself up, trying to balance his body enough so he could sit. Frame shaking from the radiation slowly beginning to dissipate, he was suddenly overcome with a wave of nausea and the urgent need to purge his tanks. By the time Giga reached his position and transformed, he was busy coughing and gagging on his previously consumed energon rations.

"Easy Scorch, easy," She spoke, servos gently rubbing his back. Without hesitating she retrieved her scanner from subspace and checked him over quickly. "Good news is that you just have some minor radiation poisoning, which should just pass in a few jours. The bad news is that you have radiation poisoning and unless we get all the irradiated energon out of your systems as quickly as possible," she continued, quickly subspacing her scanner and retrieving a drainage spike, "you're going to be in for a very painful and network crippling couple of jours." She did not bother hesitating in finding one of the energon lines, sliding the spike into the main line in his neck. He cringed as the liquid energy began to stream from the spike's tip, pink and purple fluid flowing down his armor. It stung.

"Where's Rocky?" He managed after a klik or so. Giga was busy searching her subspaces for her extra energon rations so she didn't respond right away.

"She's with Cross Shot and Avvix," she mumbled behind the tubing she held between her denta. He watched quietly as the femme concentrated on her impromptu energon-drip, doing her best to construct the rig needed with the few spare pieces of equipment she had at her disposal. "They should be coming down here in a few kliks."

"Is she al'righ?" he tried to lift himself up only to find Giga's servo pressing against his chassis, keeping him down.

"She's fine." Giga grunted, tearing the edge off a ration and sealing a section of tubing to the opening. "Moved a little too much for those welds of hers, but nothing I can't patch later," she shot a glare at her commander as he tried to move in protest. "She's not a sparkling anymore Scorcher, I can trust her to deal with some minor damage." She emphasized her point by choosing that moment to pierce another of his fuel lines with the energon drip with a motion that was more a punch than an insertion. He cringed as the unprocessed energon ran straight into his systems, burning his lines like acid. Normally he would be in protest, but unlike other doc bots, Giga was one he trusted, and it was a trust that had been forged and reinforced on countless occasions on battle fields and chaos torn city streets. Giga servos had saved his spark more than he would ever admit, so he tolerated the raw energon being forced into his lines. If Giga was doing it, there had to be a good reason why.

Her scanners were once again moving over his frame and before he could stop her, she yanked out the spike in his neck. He flinched and his servo came to clutch the small hole the spike left in his cable. Giga clicked at him like a carrier as she tore open another ration, forcing it at him. He took it gratefully.

"To be honest," Giga's tone turned serious, catching the mech's attention as he tried to down the energon ration, "I thought that was going to be the end of… this." she motioned vaguely around with her servos.

"Ah know." he muttered solemnly from behind his energon. He drained the last of the ration and crushed the container in his fist. "It's jus'…" his vocalizer drifted off as he stared intensely at the crushed cube. They had been at this for so long and he thought…. "Fraggit…"

Scorch had been certain that all of them together would proven to be a satisfactory target,

enough of a challenge. All five of them should have been a tempting direction, but apparently his processor had been wrong. No matter how often they interceded, how they intercepted and attacked, they could never distract Nova from his chosen target, his desired prey. They could occasionally mislead and redirect- Pit they could even get him to fixate for short periods of time!- but they could not drive him off the track he blindly yet instinctually followed.

His fist clenched and Scorch watched as the cube erupted into blue green flame. To say that he was upset or disappointed with the circumstances was a complete understatement. He was completely and utterly disconcerted, infuriated even. It was as if all of their attempts, all of their efforts, were negligible, abject even.

So wrapped in his thoughts, he didn't hear the arrival of the rest of his team.

Cross Shot lumbered slowly over to his commander and CMO, a satellite uplink connector and tackle crate under one arm, his massive rifle perched over the shoulder of the other. His dispassion gaze slid from the CMO to the commander, then back to Giga,watching her for a moment. The sensor on his visor blinked before he settled the gear crate on the ground delicately, all the while saying nothing. Avvix lopped calmly at the sniper's side, his sensor panels twitching, catching data and processing it just as quickly while his audio's rotated on their ball bearings, catching small waves that traveled through the nether near by. Silently he perched himself on top of the gear crate, his large yellowed optic glancing to the sniper. The four lens readers surrounding the optic flashed some obscured pattern and Cross Shot nodded slowly. His head turned to acknowledge the arrival of the final and youngest of their team.

Roxilix wasn't aware of the small audience she had as she approached. Her attention was more focused on the small tears that had occurred on her once solid welds. Quietly she murmured soft curses as she tried to block the stemming flow of stabilizer fluid that threatened to leak out, placing small globules of thick, black metallic tar over the ruptures in her armor. It was a rough patch job, but the tar worked in slowing any possible leaks and reinforcing the weakened plating on her side till Giga could get a proper look at it and make a better field repair. She just wished that the tar didn't have to be so messy. It was so blasted sticky and would occasionally start to run when her systems ran too hot, leaving streaks of harsh smelling black gunk across her yellow and electric blue armor. Primus she hated the stuff.

"Need a servo?"

Roxilix looked up to see the CMO rising to her peds, a look of amusement on the older femme's faceplates. The young scout shot her an unappreciated glare from under her optics.

"Your puns blow Giga." She muttered as she went about trying to close her cuts. Giga shot her a sympathetic look before taking the femme's arm and leading her aways from the others so she could take a better look.

"Sorry Rocky. I didn't mean any offense, you know that," she spoke as she went about trying to check the broken welds. She gave an appreciative once over of Roxilix's tar-job and lightly clicked her glossa. "When ever I leave you to patch yourself up you get better, but you still make a slagging mess of it." Roxilix frowned as she watched Giga retrieve some light grade dissolvent to remove the excess tar. The dissolvent was cool against her armor as it washed away the black gunk, leaving it to stream down her seams to be wiped away later with a drying cloth. She watched the black liquid thoughtfully before heaving a deep sigh through her vents.

"In case you haven't noticed Giga," she sighed, her servo clutching tightly around her waist, "I need a servo."

Giga's helm fell as she finished cleaning up the tar. The thing was, Roxilix was in need of a servo. Pit, the young scout was in need of a lot more that a simple hand. She was missing her entire right arm from her shoulder down and half the plating on her right side was now gone, either torn away or removed to redistribute pressure in her systems. That didn't even take into account the portions of circuits that, without proper support and protection, had merely rotted and corroded from wear and exposure. If normal protocol was still in effect, Rocky would have been on leave, in the midst of recovery and rehabilitation with new circuits and a new arm. If Giga had her way, the yellow and blue femme would have been rushed back to Cybertron and sent directly to Iacon to be treated by the surgeons and engineers of the Elite Guard- dispose them though she may- the moment she had first been injured. But she was used to not getting things her way, especially now. They weren't anywhere near Cybertron, barely in what could be call the cusp of it's space, with limited everything, and they needed a scout. And, regretful though it was, Roxilix had to be that scout, even though it put unneeded wear and tear on her already damaged systems. They didn't have time to train anyone else, not with Him tearing around space, Pit bent on the death of the team. She was the only one they had left, not since Cal-

Giga shook the thought from her head. She couldn't focus on that right now, couldn't think on who was gone or missing. Or for all they knew already dead. She had a job to do, here and now, and she needed to remember that.

Roxilix shut her pain and temperature sensors down as Giga produced her small welding torch from subspace. She hated getting welded on, but by now this was all just standard procedure. _Pathetic, considering the only time a bot should ever need welding is when something goes horribly wrong._

"Do you have any redundancy programs still intact?"

Roxilix nodded and slowly slid her thigh armor open. Inside, nestled along the edge of her armor and between the gaps in her circuitry, was a small alloy container. The scout removed the container and handed it over. Giga took it graciously before setting about her work. Cracking the small container, she pulling out the metal she needed before handing it back to the scout to put away and began her welding.. Roxilix twitched uncomfortably as the flame was brought along the torn seams on her side. It was a knee-jerk reaction, a reflex from seeing the torch. She could barely feel slag in her side when her systems were up and running, with the relays down Giga might as well have been trying to make a petro-rabbit out of thin air. Vaguely she could feel a tug of something being shifted in her barren shoulder socket, but that was all just pressure gauges going off. In reality, her frame might as well have been empty.

"I'm getting really fed up with all this deja-vu." A tension ran through Roxilix's frame, her voice a strained whisper. Giga tilted her helm as she continued with her welds. "You would think that we would have brought him down or found a cure by now. But we haven't. No one has. Every paracycle it feels like we're reliving the same pattern, over and over and over. Find him, track him, follow him, fight him, lose him. It never stops." Her one servo clutched harshly at the armor of her chassis, resting firmly above her spark nestled safely inside. "I don't know how much longer I can take seeing him like this."

Giga adverted her optics as she finished her work, letting the hiss of the welding torch fill her meta. She held a strong dislike for moments such as these. They were always far too… strained for her pleasure. Medics weren't ones for sentiment, their gruff or indifferent exteriors were a mark of their trade, especially the ones that dealt primarily in the field. It was their cover, their shield; appearing distant and ornery helped keep soldiers at a distance, helped prevent bonds and attachments from forming. One couldn't be a combat medic and emotionally involved with anyone on the front lines. The risk, the damage, could be too great otherwise. Medics simply never knew when there would come a time when they could not save them.

But Giga had been her team for too long, seen and done so much with them both in and out of combat. She'd know Scorch for vorns, Cross Shot and Avvix for even longer. Frag it all, she had known Roxilix since she was practically a sparkling, watched her grow and conditioned into the femme in front of her. There was no way for her not to become attached. And part of her doubted whether she would have wanted it any other way.

With the welds set she subspaced the cooling torch and brought her hand to rest against the femme's uninjured shoulder.

"None of us like seeing him this way," Giga spoke softly, frowning at her own words. "I know how hard this can get for you, how hard it can be for all of us. It always hurts," Giga murmur softer, watching the young femme's frame begin to shiver, "when you're missing members of your family."She watched as Roxilix's shoulder grew slump.

"They were like creators to me. And now Nova's become infected and she…" her vocals shorted and it was all the medic could do to not wrap her arms around the scout's. "If she was still here, this would have been over a long time ago."

"Rocky, you don't know that." She watched the younger merely shrug before blasting another sigh from her vents. "She'd be proud of you, for hanging in like this. She was always so damned proud of you." Roxilix gave a snort and Giga couldn't suppress her chuckle. "She was you know. Of every little blasted thing you did, good or bad." The scout gave the hint of a smile.

"And usually it was bad."

"Darn straight. And there wasn't a spark that could tell her otherwise. Or you for that matter."

With the air slightly lightened, Giga turned back to the group.

Scorch watched as the medic approached, having finished destroying the remounts of the energon cube. The drip was still pierced his fuel line, still infusing raw energon into his systems. The burn had finally begun to dissipate, something he found himself grateful for. Raw energon was the equivalent biting down on a tablet of cesium. It just did not bode well.

Giga did a brief scan of his systems. Apparently he cleared her basic codes as she "carefully" yanked the drip's spike from his fuel line, a sputter leaving his vocal processor as the minute pain ran through his already strained neural network. He looked up at the medic and she nodded to his silent request. Grabbing her offered servo, he graciously hauled himself to his peds. Cross Shot's visor turned to watch him, but again said nothing.

"What do we do next, Sir?"

Scorch weighed Giga's question as he watched her wrap the tubing back up, prepping it for subspace. Her question caught the team's attention however, alerting them to whatever orders that might follow. For a moment, the commander pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor, the standard position for when ever he happened to be deep in thought. Despite its innocence, her question was a loaded one, full of ramifications he did not feel like going into at the moment. But things needed to be addressed, assumptions noted an dealt with, and a course of action laid out. Their hunt was beginning to take too long, longer than initially anticipated. _But we're goin' against the bes' o us, how else is it gonna go?_

"We can' keep this goin' like its been. We've been runnin' low fo' too long an Ah don see us gettin' closer ta 'im then He'll let us. So fo' now, we're gonna switch up da game on 'im," he started, a small spark rippling between his digits as a plan slowly molded in his processor. "We play this one smart, we play this one slow, and we make it close ta da chest. We don wan' 'im to get too far ahead o us, so we 'ave to sort out some things now.

"Avvix, Ah need ya ta send a message out ta Doctus, low profile. We're runnin' low on supplies an' Ah doubt da Chamber will be willing ta make a drop fo' us unless we ask 'em directly. Prahmus knows AT won bother with it, but Doctus might 'ave a chance with Marva." Avvix nodded, his yellow optic shuttering in understanding. "Ah'll send one out ta AT, give 'im an update o our progress. Jus' enough ta make 'im happy an' keep 'im off our backs. Fo' righ' now, the less info we leak out, the better chance we'll 'ave o not draggin' any EG in ta it."

"I hate working with those bots," Giga mumbled, crossing her arms over her chassis. Scorch smirked as Cross Shot nodded in agreement.

"Which is why Ah don' wan' any o them involved. The fewer civvies and EG we come across the better it'll be. We done alrigh' so far as keeping' 'em in the dark an' AT has been keeping' his mouth shut fo' the most part, but that's not ta say he won' say somethin' eventually." They nodded. The last thing they needed was Elite Guard breathing down their backs with questions. If wind of this hit Ultra Magnus, Allspark forbid, the Senate would have a field day.

"So here's how Ah figure we're gonna have ta do this." He pushed a sigh through his vents, optics scanning over his team. "We can' stop Nova. Prahmus knows we tried, but he's stronga then us, an' a slag more dangerous." It hurt to admit this, stung his pride. But his pride could be damned to the Pit for all he cared. Right now, they had bigger problems. "What we can do, tough, is slow 'im down. We track 'im like we've been an' slowly nick away at 'im. Our goal will be to weaken 'im down and try to figure out exactly where he's been headed. We're gonna map out his trail and get a pinpoint on his target. Once we do that, we'll know how much time we 'ave." Giga shot him a concerned look.

"Time, Sir?" Scorch nodded.

"He's goin' somewhere. It'll only be a matter o time till he find what he wan's, we all know that." Scorch's fists clenched, another flash of a blue ember rose across his armor. "If he's goin' where we ALL think he's goin', we bide our time and slowly work on breaking 'im down. Once he gets close enough, we light our beacon an' send word ta Caliber."

"And what do you propose we say?" Scorch's attention quickly went to the youngest of his team, as did everyone else's. Roxilix stood quietly, arm wrapped protectively around her chassis, a furrow on her faceplates. There was an unease about her, a tension running through her frame as her optics focused on the ground beneath her peds. "What could we ever think to say to her?"

"The only thing we could Rocky. The truth." Roxilix's optics met his and it was all he could do to not look away. In her he saw a pain he never hoped to see. Her optics were not those of the scout she had been trained to, of the fighter she had been raised to be. They were the optics of a young femme, just a few vorns out of her sparklinghood, and filled with the grief of nearly a lifetime of loss. Her optics held worry and fear for the femme that might as well have sparked her, and a longing to see her once more. But there was also shame, a shame that did not belong in someone so young.

"We tell 'er that we failed in bringing 'im down, that we canno' stop 'im. An' we tell 'er that she was righ'."

Such shame belonged to him.

"The only one Nova wan's ta hunt is 'er."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Three months prior to present day, Detroit, Michigan.

"You have interfered with me for the last time, Optimus Prime!"

The fire from Megatron's cannon came as a volley, plasma rounds streaking across the sky like stars. The first had hit the intended target, connecting with Optimus's chest plate, sending him careening back. The other shots, made in desperation, were less lucky, striking the freeway, creating deep holes in the asphalt. Rachet didn't hesitate, his magnets activating with barely a thought. In an instant his beams were wrapped around the Magnus Hammer and launching it to the fallen Prime. It flew gracefully into his awaiting servo and, righting himself, Optimus took to the air, propelling purposefully toward the Decepticon commander above. Megatron fired his cannon, but the smaller Autobot dodged, coming about like a born flier. In an instant the young Prime rose up, raising the Hammer, before swinging down hard on Megatron's armored helm. Caught off balance, the Decepticon found himself plummeting, crashing into the freeway below. Sliding to a halt, Megatron watched his foe land nearby.

Optimus rushed forward, Magnus Hammer at the ready. Peds struck the ground heavily, desired target lying on the ground before him. Megatron was going to pay for this, pay for all the damage he caused, the pain he's inflicted. The lives he took away. The Decepticon had it coming, it was no less than he deserved. Scum of the universe, it filled the cruel one's spark and flowed through his lines. So why, as he rose the Magnus Hammer above his head, ready to strike like the Magnus he was not, did he feel the urge to stop emanating from his spark?

Megatron watched from where he lay, watched the hesitation that had not been there mere moments ago cross the Autobot's blue optics.

"What are you waiting for, Autobot?" he managed, optics glaring at the one that would certainly spell his end. It figured, the one Autobot he came across stellarcycles after the war would be his downfall. The Decepticon would have laughed if he found any humor in it. "Finish me."

Optimus stood, an harbinger of Doom, a servant of Judgement. He felt the urge for Justice course through his frame, race through his meta. The Magnus Hammer charged, feeling his need for vengeance and desire for peace. What this bot wanted, the Hammer was more than willing to give.

With the energy of a Magnus crackling around him, Optimus felt his arms move and the gavel of judgement begin to fall. The Magnus Hammer rushed forward, bent on fulfilling the Prime's wish.

But his spark spoke a different request.

The impact turn the sky white and for a moment the Autobots felt their optics go blind. When it cleared, their processors reeling in disbelief.

The Magnus Hammer lay imbedded in the road, a hairs breath stray of the Decepticon's helm. Purple energy crackled over its blue head, sparks landing on the still living mech's faceplates. Red optics stared at the Autobot before them, confusion clearing written in their depths. Grunting, Optimus Prime pulled the Hammer out, swinging it to his side as he straightened before the warlord.

"That would be the easy way out, Megatron," the Prime huffed, air straining through his vents. The Magnus Hammer fell to the ground, the weapon of war discarded in favor for the stasis cuffs he removed from subspace. The clamps fell heavily on the Decepticon's wrists, snapping shut with near deafening certainty.

"You don't deserve it."

* * *

Three months prior to present day, Mid- Atlantic Ridge.

In the peaceful darkness of the ocean floor, a deep sea vent rumbled. Rising high above the deserted muddy bottom, a black smoker trembled to life, spewing mineral and ash blacked super heated water up into the chilled ocean. Sensing the new heat, a blind albino crab wanders towards the black behemoth, its small legs skittering quickly across the barren ground. Too long in the cold and the crab would die. Too close to the vent, the crab would be equally as dead. Life on the Ridge was cruel that way.

As the blind crab scurries across the muddied bottom, it fails to notice the small hill it so quickly clambers up. Nor the strange metal the disturbed mud uncovers. How could it, after all, being merely a crab?

~Unknown Cybertronian energy signatures, detected~

A light flashes. It's quick, pale blue beams go unnoticed by the blind audience climbing the smoking vents nearby.

~Resuscitation Program, Activated~

The light's flashing increases, a frenzy of patterns erupt into the dark ocean above. A humbalt squid slowly approaches, drawn by the flashing lights into the cold waters. Perplexed, he watches. A low keening sound vibrates through the water, the foreign ripple of noise catching the attention of the shrimps swarming the vents' walls. Their simple minds do not comprehend what is taking place. The shrimp know that the sound is strange and it makes the water shift in an unfamiliar pattern. But they don't know where it's coming from, or why. And their not prepared for the pulse of energy that pulses out from the sound's origin, and they flee before the second pulse reaches the black smoker's mouth.

The silt bottom erupts as a third pulse of energy bursts from the metal. This time, something in its structure flinches. A fourth pulse and the metal curls in upon itself, wrapped about itself in a fetal cradle. The fifth pulse brings with it the sounds of liquid being forced through tubing as energon that had long been stilled starts flowing once again. With the sixth pulse, fans whirl to life and systems that have been offline begin to restart. There's the clicking noise of something heavy turning over with a steady rumble and the groan of a processor slowly waking up.

~Removal of Stasis Lock, Approved~

The frame lurches in the mud, spasming like something choking. A final pulse, a flash of blinding white light, and everything falls still. The squid floats on near by, confused.

~Resuscitation Program, Completed~

In the darkness of the Mid Atlantic Ridge, optics online and a frame begins to slowly rise from the muck. Servos flex after years of neglect, a long since stilled engine rumbles softly beneath chassis armor. A visor slides softly into place as a femme takes her first look into the darkness.

"Well, Caliber. Let's see what we can find, shall we?"

* * *

Yeah, a little short, but this is just the first chapter so meh.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Detroit, Michigan, Present day, Present time.

* * *

It's a general consensus that when the "ultimate evil" has been stopped, the world readies itself for peace. That is why wars are fought- for the peace they supposedly generate after. At least, that was what Optimus and his crew assumed would happen once Megatron had been captured and brought to justice. The perpetrator of evil had been caged and was, as of now, secured in the strongest prison in Cybertron, utterly defeated. So peace was sure to come, wasn't it?

Apparently not.

In the three months since Megatron's capture things had only gotten worse for the former repair crew. Enraged at the humiliation of their leader, the remaining Decepticons were more active than ever. Barely a cycle would go by without some disaster or other occurring with Decepticons to blame. Off planet energon stores being raided or destroyed, some far space colony falling under attack, the sightings of ancient warships crossing through the way space of a distant star, a space bridge activating that had once been thought abandon or offlined with no Autobots or Elite Guard in the immediate area. These were only small incursions, but they were becoming more frequent with each passing week and the Elite Guard was still on permanent standby, 'just in case' as Ultra Magnus had put it.

But that was all back on Cybertron. The bots on Earth were having troubles of their own.

Now Optimus had expected trouble from the common villainy incorporated with life in Detroit- the human criminals were always something that needed to be dealt with. Not to mention that there were still rouge Decepticons roaming about the planet's surface; three of- now deceased- Starscream's clones were still unaccounted for. The female clone, Slipstream as she was now known to call herself, was still on Earth, staying off radar but still causing minor panic when ever she did bother to appear; where the blue and purple clones had gone no one was sure ever since they had been rocketed through that space bridge nearly a year prior. The Constructicons were still active- their occasional appearances always caused pandemonium, especially whenever Dirt Boss was involved- and there were minor traces of Soundwave's still functioning frame and those of his two "pets" Laserbeak and Ratbat. No one was sure what happened to Lockdown after their last encounter, but the Autobots were still certain that he was around somewhere. Where trouble was, it was assured that the bounty hunter would be somewhere in its wake. Then there were the unknown cases of Waspinator and Blackarachnia.

They had not been spotted since that explosion, but something told Optimus and his crew that they were still functioning somewhere and just waiting to make an appearance once again. After all, Blackarachnia was a free agent of sorts; there was no way that the capture of Megatron would dissuade her from trying to find her cure. She just wasn't one to give in that easily.

What Optimus hadn't been prepared for was the fact that the bounty placed on the helms of both him and his crew had tripled and several bots were more than willing to try and collect.

Ratchet- ever the pessimist- was apparently the only one not surprised by their turn of events. And it was something that he never missed a chance to rub in the young Prime's face.

Like now, for instance.

"Slaggin' pit bound piece of scrap.." Ratchet mumbled darkly from where he knelt, helm looking cautiously around the corner of the wear house. " 'Stopping Megatron will bring an end to the war,' blah blah blah."

Prime tried his best to ignore the obvious mocking coming from the old medic. So yeah, things hadn't worked how he had believed they would after Megatron's capture. But, honestly, how was he suppose to know?

"_Who are we dealing with Bumblebee?_" There was some static coming through the comm, but he could hear the young bot move slightly before responding.

"_Hang on, Boss bot. I'm moving in for a closer look_."

Bumblebee's tone was serious and he could hear the subtle movements he was making over the comm. It was remarkable the change that Bumblebee had gone through since that day. Optimus could not decide what had sparked the sudden change, but it had been powerful. Perhaps it had dealt with the shear intensity of that day, the fact that they had literally had the weight of not only Earth's future, but Cybertron's riding on some miserable repair crew that had sparked it. Maybe it was the responsibility of now being a bot equipped with lethal grade weaponry that caused the change. But Optimus had a feeling that Bumblebee's sudden- albeit rare- flare of maturity dealt with the sudden blow they had taken as a team, as a family. It hammered the real price of war for Optimus more than anything else, and he was positive that it was affecting the now "scout in training" in the same manner.

"_Would you believe it if I said it's that crazy femme again?_"

Optimus blinked and he could hear Ratchet mutter some obscenity under his vents.

"_The what?_"

"_Short on temper, short on sanity. Big panels, bigger gun?_" he explained over the comm. "_Ringing any bells?_"

"_Thunderblast?_"

"_The one and only_."

This would make it their third altercation with the femme Thunderblast, and it was something the young Prime was not looking forward to. What marked her different from any of the other Decepticons he and his crew had faced was the simple fact that Thunderblast was crazy. Legitimate crazy. Now they thought they had dealt with insane bots before, what with that Random face of Blitzwing and Wasp before he was turned into Waspinator. But they had no idea.

Random was just that, random. He wasn't crazy unless one considered the multiple personalities, but even then it was more of an annoyance than an actual concern. And Wasp? He had become obsessive, bent on revenge and rage. Wasp could still think and plan, he just couldn't rid himself of his need for vengeance on the bots that had, in essence, destroyed him.

Thunderblast was something else entirely.

According to the files they had managed to get from their current connections with the Elite Guard, Thunderblast had been the result of a malformed protoform. Something had gone wrong, something with the coding that was suppose to form her inter neural networking. They had wanted to study her, try to determine what could have caused the malfunction, but the Great War was well under way and Megatron had attacked. Thunderblast's protoshell was soon reported missing. It wasn't long afterward that she was seen in the battle field, something twisted for war by the Decepticon Warlord. By the time the Great War was considered over, the femme was utterly manic. The humans would describe it as a form of psychosis, perhaps schizophrenia. Whatever it was, it made the femme dangerous and obsessive and, to put it simply, she hadn't taken the imprisonment of her Lord gracefully. If the information they were able to get from their Elite Guard friend was anything to go off of, she would not stop trying to offline them till she felt Megatron was avenged.

And speaking of the Elite Guard...

"_O.P, we need ta do something' soon. She's looking' a might twitchy_."

"I hear you Jazz," Optimus sighed, "Is there a way you can get her attention? As much as I hate to admit it, she'll be easier to deal with outside."

"_Loud an' clear_."

What Jazz did to get her attention, Prime doubted he really wanted to know. Whatever it was though, it worked and it had the femme screaming. Optimus barely had time to duck away from the door when he caught sight of the usually stealthy ninja's alt form racing from the warehouse. The sound of something being blasted echoed from the base as some kind of quad-winged jet burst forth with a roar of anger, the purple plasma of its exhaust streaking the night sky as it tore after the sport car's fading tail lights.

"He never does anything half cocked, huh?" Ratchet mumbled drily. Optimus could only shrug as he was pinged from the ninja, his location appearing in the Prime's HUD. Without hesitation, Optimus opened his comm to his bots.

"Jazz is leading her towards the warehouse district by the docks. We're going to split so listen up. Bumblebee, I want you to find Jazz, help him out with your speed. Bulkhead, you and Ratchet will be running interference, we need to get as many people out of there as we can. I'll be tailing after Jazz and Bumblebee to try and cut her off. Is that clear?" He heard a ring of affirmations from his bots and the young Prime could not fight the smile on his faceplates.

"All right bots! Transform and roll out!"

* * *

Jazz braked enough to whip his frame around the sharp ninety degree curve of the alley, gunning his engine as he raced between the towering warehouses on either side. The longer he stayed on Earth, he mused, the greater fondness he developed for open course racing. There was something in the feel of at the asphalt tearing beneath his tires he found satisfying. It was little wonder to the white sports car why Bumblebee enjoyed his drag races so much. It was invigorating.

Feeling his way as he skidded through another hairpin curve, Jazz reminded himself not to get too lost in the sensation of pavement beneath his wheels. It wouldn't be long before his "friend" tired of the chase and start blowing chucks out of Detroit's warehouses.

"Auto-brat!"

Speak of the Unmaker…

Jazz felt the heat of her rocket as it sailed over his hood before the warehouse in front of him burst into yellow flames. Brakes snapped on his tires and Jazz transformed. Using his arm to launch his twisting frame off the ground, Jazz caught his nun-chucks as they leapt from subspace, his peds grinding asphalt as he landed. Yellow heat at his back, he watched as the four-winger fell from the sky above, the femme transforming into her bipedal mode. Her peds left dents in the asphalt where she landed, engines still spewing traces of purple plasma. Jazz had to fight the wave of satisfaction at the light sparking from one of her panels; he'd twisted that one back at base.

It was nice to see some lasting damage.

"Evenin' Thunderblast," he greeted kindly. "Weren't expecting' ya to drop in so suddenly else we woulda had some drinks waitin'. What brings ya to our little planet tonight?" Thunderblast growled. Her engines revved purple and she charged his direction.

"I will tear off your head and drink your energon!" she screeched as her claws swung for his chassis. Jazz nimbly dodged, falling back onto his hands to swing his leg up and strike the femme's unguarded wrist plating. Thunderblast growled and smacked the ninja with her damaged hand, sending him skidding back. She was about to swing again when a jolt of electric current rushed over her circuits. She growled and turned her head around.

"Annoying small Autobot," she snarled, large back panels shaking in rage. "Limb by limb, torn apart. Over and over!" Bumblebee rolled his optics.

"Yeah, nice seeing you too, Twitchy." Bumblebee's stingers sparked with charge as he looked over to Jazz. "Hey, Jazz, is it just me or does she get weirder every time she shows up?"

"Man, it's not just you Bee." Jazz said, readying his nun-chucks. "But we otta be careful now, I hear crazy is contagious." Bumblebee nodded, smirk on his faceplates.

"Let's do this."


End file.
